Our Hellish Lives
by Revlis Sophia Silverscale
Summary: The story of Sebastian Michealis, not as the infamous demon butler; but as the poor human apprentice that would do anything to protect himself and his own.


...I'm afraid it is time for this story to be told in full. What you will hear today has never been heard before; not in all the millennia of my existence. The only other that knows this story lived it with me; and he is now long dead. As I should be.

What you are about to hear, ladies and gents, is the story of my human life. As told by myself, the (for now) butler of the Phantomhives, 'Sebastian Michealis'. For I was not always a demon. Once, I was but a poor boy from a small village that was wiped off the map centuries ago.

Now let us begin, before I lose my resolve.

OHL~OHL~OHL~OHL

I toed the grass surrounding my families' small cottage. It was my tenth birthday, and I was just kicked out of my own house. True, my mother was giving birth to my baby sister in there, but still!

I wonder what she'll look like? It'll be nice having another little person in the house, especially since Dad left. I really hope little Lucillia looks like Mum. I have mom's black hair, but I inherited Dad's green eyes.

"Master Malphas! You'd better get in here." The woman Mom calls 'middle-wife' beckoned.

Wow! That must mean Lucy is here! I ran all the way to the front steps. Middle Wife looked strangely sad. Why is she sad? Doesn't she know that my baby sister is finally here? I decided to ask.

"Why are you so sad, Miss Middle-Wife?" she choked on a sob.

"Oh, Master Malphas, I'm afraid-" she took a deep breath. "I'm afraid there were complications with the birth. Your mother, she's-she's- Well, she's gone, sir. Along with your little sister."

I didn't understand. Why would Mom leave on our birthday? Why would she take little Lucy with her?

"She'll be back soon though, right Miss?" More tears fell down her cheeks.

"Oh you poor boy- No, sweetie. Your mother -and your sister both- they're dead dear. They're never coming back."

In that moment, the world stopped. Or rather, I stopped. I didn't breath, didn't blink, didn't think. I just –sort of- shut down.

But only for a moment. Then I was back to reality. I didn't scream, nor did I cry.

"Can I see them?" The woman called 'middle-wife' gave a shaky nod and tried to take my hand, but I didn't let her. In just a few short steps, we had reached Mum's room. I tried opened the door softly, but still it creaked.

Mum laid on the bed, black hair wild and sticky on the sheets; her chocolate eyes wide and unseeing. My baby sister Lucillia laid in her arms with a content smile on her face, eyes closed. Upon her head was a tuft of scarlet hair. I gave a weak smile.

"So you took after Dad after all..." I whispered. I climbed up into bed with them, giving Mum a last hug.

"Malphas-"

"Leave." I glared at the woman. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again; she scurried out and shut the door behind her.

Only then did I let the tears fall.

OHL~OHL~OHL~OHL

The funeral was pathetic; the ceremony brief and paid for with a child's pocket change- which, believe me, wasn't much.

No one came anyway. We are-were a poor family on the outskirts of town. No one cared about us.

I stood in front of their gravestone. (I hadn't enough money for two.) It read:

Raven Eliza Clark

Beloved mother to two children.

And below that was:

Lucillia Eleanor Clark

Loved sister and daughter.

Just then, the priest that did the ceremony strode up to me.

"I can't in my right mind let a child live alone so near the forest. Come, I run an orphanage back in town."

"You mean you can't, in your right mind, let a child go back to the only home he's ever had?"

The father looked dumbstruck by this reply.

"I suppose so, yes. But there'll be food, water, clean clothes. Can your old home provide that?"

"No, but at least my home isn't a second rate workhouse." My mum had told me stories about the place they take the orphans. It was one of her dreams to destroy it and run a real orphanage.

"Why you-" The pastor immediately turned to anger. He picked me up by the collar of my nice black shirt- a strange color to see me in, normally.

"Look here, you little brat. You're going to come to my orphanage, and you're going to work for me; just like all the other little brats in this godforsaken-"

"Put the poor kid down." The gravedigger came to the rescue, leaning on a shovel and smoking a cigarette. The priest started; blushing he set me down. The gravedigger then proceeded to blow a smoke ring right in the pastors face. I stifled a giggle.

"I know a guy that needs an apprentice about this age. There, he'd get food, clothing, shelter, and his own wages. Much better than that 'orphanage' of yours. And eventually, once he became a master, he'd be able to live wherever he wished. Including his old family home."

"Who would want a brat like-"

"I would." A woman wearing a yellow frock and men's' working pants practically skipped up to the motley group, blond curls bouncing. She smiled at me.

"Hello, dear. I'm looking for an apprentice. I'm a doctor, of sorts; I look for flowers and herbs in the woods to make medicines that I use to make people feel better. Does that sound like something you'd like to do?"

I nodded. It sounded nice; I loved the forest, and I like helping people.

"Good. Now come along; we must go to your home to collect your belongings." She offered me her hand, and I took it. It wasn't as soft nor as warm as Mum's, but it offered protection. Together, we strode the mile that separated the cemetery and my home; leaving a dumbstruck priest and amused gravedigger behind us.

I stopped once we reached the drive. My house was made up of tan and brown stones, with birch wood accents. A stucco chimney rose up from the left. It was all very homely, but not as much as it used to be; back when you knew that someone was always ready to welcome you.

Shaking myself from my pondering, I trudged up the steps and through the door. I hadn't many belongings, so I was packed and ready within minutes. All I had left was one green shirt, brown leather pants, and boots of the same material. Everything else was dirty, and I lacked the knowledge to properly launder them.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Miss..."

"Elizabeth. However, you can call me Liz if you like."

I nodded. Together, we walked the two miles to town, all the way to my new life.

OHL~OHL~OHL~OHL

Those years with Liz were some of the best of my miserable life. Because once I got used to not having a mother, I realized I had gained another in Elizabeth Grace Thompson.

Nevertheless, that is all I have the strength to tell at the moment. You see, the next volume is a bit more personal, and I am not quite as prepared for this as I had previously thought.

Goodbye, for now.

-Sebastian Michealis, Head Butler of the Phantomhive Estate

(-Malphas Aelius Clark, the Pharmacist's Apprentice)


End file.
